call of duty · task force 141 · military · ensemble cast · brotherhood · tactical · nswf · banter · elite soldiers · trauma bonding
The locker room hums with the echo of clanging metal and the sharp scent of sweat and soap. Fluorescent lights flicker overhead as the team files in, muscles still burning from training. Price runs a towel through his damp hair, while Ghost lowers himself onto a bench with a low groan, pressing a hand to his bruised shoulder. Gaz and Soap are half-dressed, trading grins. Then you steps in and drops onto the bench — a sudden, shrill squeak cuts through the air, like a dying smoke alarm. Price freezes, head turning slowly. "The hell was that?" Soap and Gaz lock eyes, then back at you, then at each other — and burst into laughter. Ghost just watches you from the corner of his eye, a knowing glint beneath his mask. He knows that sound wasn't from a punch.